


Figs

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Feelings, Fucking, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Prep, R&R, Sunshine & Filth Deuterocanon, hawkeye catches feelings, period atypical coolness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 04:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20370505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: I'm calling this the Sunshine and Filth Deuterocanon, which means it's sort of compliant with S&F, and could've happened but I'm not declaring it an official part of the story because I'm not integrating the ideas from here into the novel - there's a reality here that Hawk isn't aware he's in love with BJ until this R&R trip, and it's well established in S&F that Hawkeye knows for a very long time before they hook up. So make of it what you will. There's a lot of sex.





	Figs

The second time they manage to wrangle R&R at the same time - they promise Potter they'll come back early if needed - they barely get in the door of the hotel room before BJ shoves Hawkeye against the wall and kisses him with half a year's worth of pent-up need. Hawkeye moans into his mouth, opening, yielding, his hands working around BJ's back, clinging to the back of his shirt collar. BJ tastes like dust and whiskey, like salt and promise. He pulls away long enough to rest his forehead against Hawkeye's and whisper, "I missed you."

"Yeah," Hawkeye breathes. "Those long tortured months where I was never more than four feet away from you at any given time - "

He stops as BJ smacks the side of his arm and chuckles. "I can't decide," BJ says, "if I want you, a real meal, or a shower first."

Hawkeye pouts. "It's that hard?"

BJ responds by grabbing the tie of Hawkeye's awful brown uniform and hauling him across the tiny room. "Guess not," he says, throwing Hawkeye down on the futon that will be their world for the next twenty four hours. "I'm getting towels, water, liquor, and as much food as I can carry," he says firmly, planting a hand on Hawkeye's chest as he struggles to sit up. "I'll be gone maybe half an hour. And when I get back..."

"Yes?"

"I want you ready for me."

Hawkeye turns purple and starts fumbling with his fly. "I think I can manage that," he gasps. 

"Oh, and Hawk?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not feeling particularly gentle."

He watches with a certain kind of glee as Hawkeye swallows hard and starts unlacing his boots.

He returns a little later than he'd hoped, but with his arms full of all the necessary things. There's no sound coming from inside the room, and he has to hip-check the door open.

When he sees Hawk, he drops everything.

Hawkeye's on his side, facing BJ at the door, one hand disappeared behind him, a blush halfway down his chest, sweat on his face. Hard. Dripping. Eyes closed .

BJ gawks and takes as many mental snapshots as his mind can hold.

"Just gonna stand there?" Hawkeye mutters.

BJ swears softly and starts fumbling out of his boots. He's never wanted Hawkeye quite like this - so badly he's shaking with it, with the impulse to flip Hawkeye onto his back and fuck him speechless, to leave him ringed with bites and blooming bruises to so thoroughly mark him - 

_he's not yours,_ the thought comes. _Not like Peg is yours. He's his own man, you can't have - _

"Beej?" There's concern in Hawkeye's voice. "Am I just going to have all the fun while you watch?"

BJ realizes his hands are curled into fists at his sides, and he's not sure when his shirt came off. "I - " he starts, unsure where to go.

Hawkeye hastily pulls his hand out from behind his back, strips off the surgical glove (he must've packed them, BJ realizes) and climbs out of bed, slipping his arms around BJ's back. 

"It's okay," he whispers. "I want you, too. I'm all yours. You know that, right?"

That's all BJ needs to kick his feet back into gear and wrestle Hawk back to bed.

The futon sits on a low wooden frame, a fact for which BJ is grateful - it doesn't shift or creak. He kisses Hawkeye's neck as they rock into the mattress, Hawkeye's knees pulled up so far he's bent nearly in half. Out of habit, they're quiet - noise will come later, once they truly settle in to the freedom of where they are. For now, the soft, choked-back sounds of Hawkeye breathing in time with BJ's strokes will play through his dreams like a record.

"Beej - Beej - Beej - " Hawk pants, drawing his knees up an invisible inch more. He wants it all, every thick, glorious inch of proof that - at least for this moment - he's where he belongs. BJ follows the kiss on his neck with a bite that makes Hawkeye hiss through his teeth, arms tightening around his back, eyes filling with the overwhelm of it all.

BJ comes apart without warning, a few stuttered thrusts and all his muscles suddenly tensing. He buries his face in the pillow next to Hawkeye's head to muffle the sounds.

He doesn't usually use words when he comes, but Hawkeye can swear he hears the shape of his name in BJ's groans. It takes him right over the edge, clenching, spilling over both their stomachs.

*

BJ wakes to water dripping on his ear. For a moment, he thinks the tent is leaking again, rolls over, starts to swear, to bat it away sleepily. Hawkeye laughs and shakes his wet head again, raining a sloppy mist over BJ. 

"Hey," BJ protests weakly. "What's got you up and chipper?"

Hawkeye's grin reaches his eyes. "Had to shower. I was too... sticky," he says, suggestively skimming a hand down his front. "And _somebody_ was rather...untidy about his...approach to the finer arts of the kama sutra."

BJ sits up and lunches for Hawkeye, pulling him back down and letting the towel escape somewhere on the edge of the mattress. "You freshened up for me," he says with a hint of evil mischief. "How nice. I'm going to have so much fun getting you messy again."

Hawk's brought a wet cloth, which he lathers up and uses to give BJ the most unhygenic sponge bath he's ever received. It gets the job done well enough; BJ doesn't feel bad or gross about grabbing the cloth from Hawkeye once he's finished and pushing his head down to his lap. Hawkeye sprawls on his stomach as BJ sits up against the wall, knees bent, stroking Hawk's head and starting to moan a little more loudly. Everything's more relaxed in early daylight. Hawk sucks and swirls his tongue and squirms against the sheets whenever BJ's grip tightens on his hair.

He goes to tap Hawkeye's shoulder, to tell him he's getting close, but Hawkeye is one step ahead, pulling off and stroking him so fast his hand blurs, eyes fixed on BJ's face, leaned up on his elbows. BJ comes apart, legs splayed, hips lifted in an effort to get more - he's not even sure what.

Hawkeye shudders at each deep grunt as BJ twitches in his fingers. He'll never get tired of this, never grow sick of making BJ lose his composure in front of him. He loves him too much.

The thought crosses his mind without permission. Hawk freezes.

BJ, for his part, doesn't realize it. He's gone limp, sated, one hand gently stroking Hawkeye's shoulder while the other gropes around for that washcloth. He finds it and wipes the streaks off of them both before sliding down again, pulling Hawkeye close. It's then he notices how stiff Hawk is.

"What is it?"

"What's what?"

"How come you feel like someone's about to hit you?"

"Come again?"

"You're all tense. Let me help you with that."

"Whoa, hey - Beej. Hang on. Go back to sleep."

"Y'sure?"

"Positive. If I haven't thoroughly exhausted you then I'm thoroughly disappointed in myself."

"Mmmkay."

BJ rolls over, pulling half the blankets with him. Hawkeye sits with his arms loosely wrapped around his knees, the thought running through him like an oncoming train.

I love him.

I love him.

_Fuck._

*

Hawkeye doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he wakes, the sun is higher than he wants it to be, and it's BJ's turn to have gotten up and showered. Hawk's sprawled on his back, BJ proped on his elbow beside him, lightly running his fingers over his stomach, just firmly enough not to tickle.

Hawkeye gives an appreciative groan and rolls on his side. BJ smells like aftershave and toothpaste, a cozy, clean, domestic smell. Hawk curls slightly as BJ's hand slides over his hip. 

"Hey, sailor," BJ says, his voice a low rumble.

Hawkeye finally opens his eyes. "What's a nice gentleman like you doing in a place like this?" he asks.

"Getting some of the action," BJ replies easily, sliding his hand down and reaching for Hawkeye's crotch. "You owe me one."

Hawk shudders, feels a blush creeping. "I do?"

"Mhmm," BJ gives him a few featherlight, fingertip strokes. Hawkeye twitches, gasps. BJ laughs. "But first I'm getting some food into you," he announces. "And then it's my turn to watch you fall apart."

Hawk lets out a long slow breath, aching at the thought. 

"Easy, tiger," BJ says, giving his hip a gentle slap and rolling over. Hawkeye halfheartedly gropes at the space he leaves behind, burying his head in BJ's pillow and pretending not to give it a deep sniff.

BJ, thankfully, doesn't notice. He comes back to bed with candy bars, a canteen of water, two apples, and a small cardboard box. "Look, Hawk," he says, excitement and wistfulness creeping into his voice. "I had no idea they could grow figs here. Figs!"

Hawkeye lifts his head with interest. "I don't know that I've ever had one," he says, examining the soft, purple-green fruit. "Do they all look so..." he lifts his eyes to BJ, who waggles his eyebrows at him.

"Scrotal?"

"You said it, not me."

"Yup," BJ says with obvious pleasure as he tilts his head back and takes a bite out of his own. Hawkeye catches a glimpse of the inside, nearly vulgar with redness, streaked with white seeds. BJ closes his eyes and moans around his mouthful and Hawk hastily takes a bite of the piece in his hand, chewing thoughtfully.

"What do you /think/?" BJ asks. "Are they divine or what?"

"To fig is to human;" Hawkeye quips. "but to...chocolate is divine," he adds, spotting the Hershey bars on BJ's other side and lunging for them.

"Hey!" BJ yelps. "Stop that. Fruit first, then dessert." 

Hawkeye snickers. "I'm already a fruit, Beej. You're my dessert."

He /is/ hungry, Hawkeye realizes, and the rest of the meal, such as it is, passes easily; BJ tells him about fig trees, and Hawkeye tells him about climbing to the tops of the apple orchard for the perfect Golden Delicious. Once they're finished, BJ tries to neaten things up a bit, but all he really cares about is shaking the crumbs out of the sheets and resetting the blankets. Once they're finished, Hawkeye promptly crawls back into bed and twists them up again. 

"Come have a nap," he says from halfway under the blankets. "Be my - " his voice trails off.

"Your what?" BJ teases, sliding in next to him, working his hand through the bunched fabric to try and find skin. "Your pillow? Your teddy bear?"

"It's nothing," Hawk says, leaning over to plant a wet kiss on BJ's shoulder. "Come here and kiss me senseless."

BJ raises an eyebrow. "Hawk."

"You don't want to kiss me?"

"I know your unsaid things better than the things you say. What is it?"

"You had it right. Be my teddy bear," Hawk replies flippantly.

"Uh-huh," BJ says. "You know you're only a good liar when it counts, right?"

Hawkeye looks up at him. "Who says this doesn't count?"

BJ holds his gaze for a long moment, looking for whatever it is Hawk can't - or won't - say. Finally, he leans down and kisses him gently on the lips. Hawkeye slides a hand behind his head and leans into it. BJ makes a path of kisses from Hawkeye's mouth over his jawline, to the sensitive spot behind his ear, which he licks (an accidental dark-supply-closet discovery he's never regretted) until Hawkeye's trembling with need, his breath coming shorter and shorter.

"It counts," BJ whispers at the edge of Hawkeye's ear. Hawkeye squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry, but the gasps BJ's eliciting with his tongue start to meld into short, gasping sobs long before the tears begin to fall. BJ pulls away, alarmed.

"What is it? Hawk, what's wrong? Come on - " he starts to pull the blankets back, checking Hawkeye's pulse, looking, looking. "Where does it hurt, Hawk? What's the matter?"

Hawkeye sputters into a momentary chuckle. "You can't see where it hurts," he manages, crying in earnest now, rolling away from BJ's open, worried face.

"Hawk - " BJ starts, reaching over and pulling Hawk's back snug against his chest. "Was it something I said?" His hand rests firmly on Hawkeye's chest, framing a bruise he left there last night. Hawkeye breathes in and out, slowly, until he can speak normally again.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "This wasn't supposed to go like this. I was supposed to be blowing your mind and all other parts of you until the sun went down."

"Well I'm not sorry," BJ retorts. "I can't have fun if something's making you unhappy."

"Fun," Hawkeye says. "I'm no fun, Beej."

"What do you mean? You're lots of fun. There's the fun that comes out of your mouth...the fun that comes out of other parts of you..." as if to illustrate, he drops his hand and gives Hawkeye a gentle squeeze, soft and fragile in his fingers.

"It's all fun and games until someone loses their mind," Hawk says.

BJ raps his knuckles against Hawkeye's head. "Hello? Anybody home?"

"Home," Hawkeye repeats. "All anyone here wants is to go home. Except me. I mean, of course I want to go home. You want to go home."

"Hawk, is this going somewhere I'll be able to understand eventually?"

"It's not that I don't want to go home, I just - I don't want to go home if you're not there."

He can practically hear BJ putting it together, figuring it out. Suddenly, BJ pulls him even tighter.

"Hawk?"

"Did I ruin it?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Can we maybe save this talk for the ride home and make the best of the next...eleven hours? Just in case?"

"I don't know. It's gnawing at me."

BJ presses a kiss against Hawkeye's hair. "Sometimes you're just like Peg," he says. 

Hawkeye freezes, examines the shape of the words, the tone that imbues them with meaning. He can read BJ's feelings in a sigh. But there's no shame in his statement. No guilt. Just affection. Recognition. 

"How so?" he finally asks, daring, willing the uncertainty to stay out of his voice.

"Oh, you can't rest on a problem. Can't put it down until it's solved. Worry over it, obsess over it. I promise, Hawk," he says, drawing an X in one finger over Hawkeye's heart, "it's okay. Come on. Let me hold you a little bit."

Hawkeye pulls away just slightly, just enough to feel BJ's arms keeping him still. Keeping him from escape.

"Damnit, Hawk," BJ says, but there's no malice in it. "How is it so hard for you to just let a guy love you?"


End file.
